a bike a year is all it takes

Over the past 40 years, I have owned at least 35 motorcycles that I can remember. Note that this doesn't include bikes I lusted after, or rode for a day in my dreams, or the 80+ motorcycles I have ridden for Triumph over the past few years. At first that number seemed low, but when I divided it by 40 years , it meant that I averaged a new-or another motorcycle every 13.7 months. A number which may be skewed because I am down to seven bikes right now, but for sake of argument, we'll use my numbers. Hey, it's my story. Which taking into consideration time spent in places where winter is a season, but not a riding season, that averages almost one bike per year. Please don't tell my wife, she thinks we spend too much on motorcycles already. Where did I get all the money to buy them? Where did I get all the time to ride them? Are these sure signs of MMD, Multiple Motorcycle Disorder? Please, someone get me a Cycle Trader, I feel faint. I'd have to live my life in dog years to ride them all, but somehow I did. Woof! Or is it bow WOW!

Now to the non-riding, financial, insane, boring mind, this would be heresy, and no way to build a growing portfolio. And they may be right. Just the cost of purchase, before tires, gas, oil, and accessories would be enough to pay off the house. But being a rider, I have to add in an intangible factor, the peace of mind factor. The fun factor. Call it the "I've never seen a motorcycle parked in front of a psychiatrist's office" factor. And suddenly it all makes sense. How many people save their whole lives, only to die, get divorced, lose their job, or pay too many taxes and never enjoy life? From a fiduciary standpoint, riding is lunacy, which makes it all that more appealing to me. Add in the fun, friends, and places, and it has been a wise investment. Who can put a price on memories? At the end of your life would you say I'm glad I did or I wish I had?

If I never rode I would never have seen the US of A from the seat of a bike. I would never met people at rest stops, or eaten at places like Lucille's, Alice's, or Primonti Bros. I would never have enjoyed the scent coming off the highway after the rain, or smelled the wildflowers while passing through a field in Central Cal. I would have missed the rush of acceleration that few cars can match, and no one would come up to me on my Bonneville and share their memories. There would have been no Daytona, or Hollister, or Johnstown, and I would never have enjoyed the brotherhood of other riders. I would never have scraped pegs in a tight corner, frozen until the cold morning warmed up, or roasted riding across the desert on a summer afternoon. I would have listened to countless hours of talk radio, gotten bored by classic rock, and never realized that loud pipes save lives. I would have no life, and if asked about my investments, would have a savings account, my house paid off, and no signs of life coming from it. My garage would hold the two cars, and I would have had countless hours to waste from not cleaning, servicing, or trying to make nine bikes fit into a one car garage. And sadly, I would never have met Theresa, our first night out was on my R100S, without helmets in case you wondered. In other words, the main thing missing from my life would have been life. And when I think about life in those terms, you mean it was only 35 bikes? Only 40 years? Where did the time go?

So what do you do with your free time? I know too many that worry about their investments, but never invest in life. Dying secure in the fact that they had enough money to live however they wanted, only chose not to live. I find many people today so afraid of the future, they don't enjoy today. The news scares them, and it should. From wars to bankruptcies, to foreclosures, to unemployment, it's a lousy world. Which makes me so glad that 37 years ago I chose Jesus. And never looked back. One God for 37 years. I quit while I was ahead. Do the math on that one, and use the factor of eternity, and it throws off all your other figures. The wisest investment I ever made, giving Him all my sin, and taking on His grace. The deal made no sense to the financial mind, but it has paid off handsomely over the years. And will forever. For the joy of riding, like the joy of Jesus cannot be fully described using words. It must be experienced. Joy unspeakable, full of glory. Freedom of the road, and from fear. Able to live my life, enjoying it, not worrying about the future. Looking in the mirror to where I have been, not where I am going. Investing in things in heaven-you can't take it with you, but you can send it ahead. And safe and secure in the knowledge that heaven awaits-my life doesn't end here, it only begins when I die!

Some people will never ride, but that doesn't mean you don't have to know Jesus. Not the religious one, the one in the Bible. The one who gave grace, and did away with legalistic laws. The one who gave His life for you, while you were still in sin. The one who promises an abundant life, and who shows why it is more blessed to give than receive. Wondering about life? Talk to a Christian. Wondering about riding? Talk to a biker. And if he rides, and is saved, listen carefully. The advice you will be given is not available at any price. And you will know life, and start to enjoy it more, by investing in it. For it is the intangibles, that last forever.

So a bike a year is all it takes. 35 bikes may be the third best investment I ever made. Jesus is the first, Theresa is the second. But the countless adventures in riding have made life worthwhile, and given me life. With many more miles, and motorcycles to go. So I suggest investing in Jesus today. The best investment tip you will ever get. You can brag about your investment portfolio, I'll get out the pictures and show you mine. You decide who made the better investment. I know I did, for it continues to pay top dividends, is inflation free, and has a guaranteed return. If you know what I mean...

a better class of people

My dad was always proud of me, but sometimes would hesitate to answer when someone asked "is Michael your son?" He had learned like I had, that if someone was going to get caught having fun, it was me. If something would get broken, and I happened to be in the state, it was me. And if some good deed was performed, and my name came up, it had to be another Mike. So over the years he learned to question these "do-gooders," only to respond to them, "he was with me." Or "he was on a camping trip with the Boy Scouts." "Or it couldn't been his motorcycle, it doesn't have loud pipes. (It was a BMW.) Which had the potential to open doors he didn't realize. "That was your son who was with you?" Raising more questions. "So that's what happened at the campout." Or "all motorcycles are loud, and only losers ride them because they have loser parents." And it seems that most everyone is ready to unload about you with some sort of bad news. You will always fail to meet their mark, to agree with their opinion, or make as much money as them. They just can't stand to hear that "he" did something nice. And can't wait to tell your parents when you screw up. As a public service, "no charge Mr. Mohn, thought you'd like to know." So many idiots, and so few villages.

So when I was in high school, I knew a woman Mrs. Spach who would let us hang out at her house, and party. We were young, stupid, and immature, all the qualifications for fun at that age, and took full advantage of it. Which all her neighbors knew, and couldn't stand. I had just gotten my license, and was driving the Pinto when Mrs. Spach's dad died. She was unable to drive, and had many things to do dealing with his death. So I offered to drive her where she needed to go after school, just doing what I had been taught, and helping out a friend. And she was able to get things settled quickly and get on with her life and kids. This is what friends do, and I never thought much of it.

Until I came home one night, and my parents wanted to talk to me. My instant memory told me I hadn't done anything that wrong for a week, maybe my past aggressions were finding me out. It seems they had gotten a letter from Mrs. Spach, thanking them for raising such a good son, and how she appreciated all the help I had been to her, and her son Billy. I think they were in shock, Michael? Their son? We weren't trained for letters like this? And they were proud of me, and it felt good. Until a few weeks later my dad ran into Gavin's dad, who knew Mrs. Spach and told him about the parties. Seems someone is always willing to steal and rob from you. Can't be nice to those kind of people. Which made my good deed even more better to my dad, for I was not helping out someone in the clique, but someone in need. Like I had seen him do before, also without being recognized for it. We talked about it, not happy about the parties, but proud of helping out a woman in need.

Satan comes to rob and destroy, even those who aren't saved, which I wasn't at the time. I am sure if I had helped the principal's wife, or the mayor's, Gavin's dad would not have tried to insult my dad. "Nice thing your kid did, too bad the woman is a loser." Like the Pharisees, he just had to try to show he was better, which he wasn't. Too bad he didn't realize he was in the same category as she was. Would it have been OK to help him or his wife? Or his mother?

Someone is always watching. They love to comment on what they see, or think they see us doing. Not a new situation. But God looks on the heart. Big difference. He sees our motives, our actions, and where and why we do the things we do. The Pharisees, which are the father of religion, and inhabit too many churches today, still carry on their traditions of look at me, I am so religious. And so do so many things to show how great they are. But God looks on the heart.

My particular complaint today is with the Super Bowl. Take a cool Christian man like Walter Payton, name a humanitarian award after him, and then nominate a man who makes $17million dollars a year for his good works off the field. And they call that man a hero? Almost like using Walter's name in vain. The Pharisees of football.

The Bible tells us what is in the heart will come out of the mouth, and reflect in our actions. I am reminded again and again how true that is. But I am blessed to see so many trusting God, and ministering in Jesus name. No trophy, no award, and no $17 million. For no award could add to what their Father in heaven sees. For just like He bragged about Job to the devil, He brags on us when we do something for the least of them-in love. No qualifications, no agenda, just meet the need. Like Jesus did. Again and again, today and tomorrow. Maybe that is why He hung with the low lifes of society, they were a better class of people. And why He hangs with people like us today. It is called love, just like I showed Mrs. Spach but didn't know it. Just like we do when we meet a need in Jesus name. For in doing so, we are doing it to Him. For all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God. And He is the only way back. And yeah, my heart is a mess sometimes, but God loves and forgives me. He wants nothing between us, so has forgiven my sin-like it never existed!

Let love be the only thing between you and God, and those created in His image. Don't worry what people say, the only words I care to hear is "well done my good and faithful servant." From my Father in heaven, courtesy of Jesus Christ. If you wish to repeat anything about me, tell about how He saved me and changed my life. I dare you!

love with compassion,

Mike

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